You Know, This Isn't Pretty Woman
by ljam86
Summary: When Kurt Didn't get into NYADA, things just kept going downhill. Sam finds him eight years later and is saddened by what his former teammate has become. Can he be there for Kurt and bring him back from the brink? AU post season three. Hooker!Kurt/Sam
1. We All Fall Down

**. **

**I don't own Glee. I wish I had a say in it but alas, I do not.**

**This is a birthday gift for my dear friend DylanDahl. I love you, babe. **

**Prologue is in the second person but the rest will be in the third. **

**You Know…..This Isn't Pretty Woman**

**Prologue- **

You never would have thought in a million years that this would be your life. You were supposed to be a rising star on the Broadway scene by now, not on your knees feeling the jaggedness of gravel scraping over them and some random man tugging on your light locks like he owns you. You figure he does though, at least for the remaining few minutes or so. He didn't even spring for some sleazy no-tell motel and apparently his car was two good to have the likes of you blowing him from the passenger's seat.

You didn't make it into NYADA like you had planned. It was hard to understand why because you'd had an amazing audition and even though Rachel was one of your best friends and you were truly rooting for her, she blew it. She blew it and still made it in. So you were the one stuck trying to figure out a plan B. It wasn't fair.

You'd decided to take a year or two to experience life. Maybe work on some designs and then immerse yourself in a design school later on. At the end of the summer after graduation you said goodbye to your equally talented boyfriend whom promptly dumped you after a month apart for another kid who had just come out and was still stuck back at McKinley with him, because according to Blaine, "the long distance thing was just too hard." You bitterly wonder why everyone decided to come out of the closet now, when you spent your first three years there being constantly chastised and bullied for it all alone.

Other than your family you only really kept in contact with Mercedes and occasionally Rachel because even if you were a little bitter about her success, you're still proud of her and you honestly do care for her. Mercedes was so busy with school and performing, along with a budding romance with a fellow artist that you didn't get a chance to talk to her nearly as much as you wanted to.

Finn had joined the Army which you thought was crazy. Less crazy than him marrying Rachel and ruining both of their futures, but crazy none the less. When he finally broke it off with the Jewish diva you weren't surprised. You never really thought they were meant to be together much longer than high school and something told you that Rachel was latching on to the first person that showed any interest in her and once she was out of Lima she would see that she had other opportunities than her high school sweetheart and some guy that made an omelet on her face.

You can't even say you're shocked nine months later when you find out that she and Quinn had declared their love for one another. Quinn had always given you lesbian vibes and the sexual tension between the two was crazy back in high school. Nobody spends that much time on somebody they hate and in the end they'd become friends.

You'd been working as a host at a restaurant for a while when you got the call about your father. His heart had given out again but this time they couldn't save him. You had been so determined to make it on your own that you'd refused his offers of help and when he was gone you insisted that Carol needed it more than you. You loved her but it was too hard for you be around her after you were forced to say goodbye to the best man you'd ever known. After the funeral, you only ever returned to Lima for Holidays until Finn had shot himself in his right knee and was forced to return home. He moved back in with his mother and now they had each other again. Finn eventually started seeing a former Cheerio that he never spoke two words to in high school but now found very interesting. She worked in a plant nursery now.

It was three years later and you still hadn't gotten yourself any closer to your dreams aside from a few online courses. You had pounded the pavement and gone to some small boutiques with some sketches. Granted Detroit wasn't exactly a fashion mecca but you had to try. A part of you was afraid of succeeding which was perhaps why you insisted on staying in this city.

You were fresh off of a rejection by some overly rude queen who told you that' you'd do better designing costumes for fag-hags than interring in the world of high fashion' on the day your rent was due. Your modest job just wasn't cutting it anymore and now you were going to be forced to beg the landlord to give you another day or two to scrape up the funds.

"What's twenty dollars," you thought. "It's not going to pay my rent so I may as well make myself feel better with it."

You sauntered into some random bar and ordered a shot of Tequila. Less than an hour later you'd consumed six shots, four of which were bought for you by the older gentleman in a suit and tie who'd been sitting next to you. You flirted because it felt good to be desired by someone that didn't hold anything over your head. You laughed and tossed your hair the way you used to do when you were trying to entice a guy when you first got to the city. You got the reaction you wanted and figured, "why not," when he asked you to join him in his hotel room. The sex was mind numbing. Much as it was with your ex. It wasn't anything to rave about, though you did rave because the guy had an ego and you once planned on being an actor after all.

Around three in the morning you began to get dressed in hopes of making it back to your place quick enough to make it to your next shift on time. You were going to have to use all of your tip money from the past few days to afford the cab fare. You were surprised however, when the guy whose name you couldn't remember, sat up in bed as you hurriedly threw your t-shirt over your head. He reached over to the nightstand and flipped open his wallet before pulling out two one hundred dollar bills and thrust it in your direction. You told him that you couldn't accept it but he kept insisting you had earned it. "I'm not a whore," you replied irritably. "This was just to get my mind off of things, not a way to pay my…" You stopped yourself from talking and eyed the money lying on the bed in front of you. You thought about what that money could do for you. You could keep your cell phone on and pay off some of your electric bill. Unable to look him in the face you snatched up the money and stuffed in your pocket.

"Thought so," the man with the silver hair chuckled. "You young twinks are all alike." You stomped your way out of the luxury suite feeling absolutely disgusted with yourself. 'Never again,' you thought; until that is, a few months later when you couldn't scrape up rent money on time, and you're not so compassionate landlord gave you twenty-four hours to pay or vacate the premises.

You were surprised at exactly how easy it was. You hardly had to go looking for it. You dressed in the tightest yet classy outfits you could manage. Often wearing one of the suits you had yet to sell from when you lived in Lima. You stuck to the classier establishments this time, the bars at the ritzy hotels. You ordered a vodka tonic and nursed it for a time until a man, usually older with a wedding ring or a tan line gracing his ring finger, asked to buy you another. You would agree and again flirt until he'd ask you to his room. Only once did a guy not realize what you were doing. He was only a few years older than you, and you felt so bad about it that you went through with the sex anyway.

That's when you decided enough was enough. You'd had it with giving yourself away to random closeted visiting strangers by night, and working in a diner by day, all the while sketching and attempting to get them seen in between. You stopped hooking along sketching but you kept your job at the restaurant. You regretted that decision two months later when you came home to an eviction notice on your door. Afraid to admit your failure, you forwent calling Carole for help and instead packed up as much as you could and called a cab. You were forced to stay in some seedy motel room that you ended up emptying a can and a half of Lysol to somewhat disinfect it. You were down to your last dime. You didn't go much further than the motel before some random blue caller guy propositioned you. You agreed.

And then you found yourself agreeing again and again. Your standards began to slip and you were bending over for the most stomach churning men. At times you would laugh when you would be approached by high-profile "family values republicans" who were known in the political world as right wing traditionalists. Then were the times when you hated yourself outright for sinking so low as to let some pig who was no doubt a wife beater because he also hated himself for having attractions to males touch you. It was the fifth time you felt that way that you took up some guy's offer to make you feel good in another way. You were hesitant but you did it anyway. It started with snorting the white powder but six months in you started chasing a new high and your veins were what suffered for it. You don't mind the needle at all now, but at least you're responsible enough to use clean ones.

Thankfully you make each and every one of them where a condom because this guy just came where he stood with your lips wrapped around his six-inch cock. You jerk your head away and instinctively wipe the nonexistent cum from your lips and stand to your feet. When he comes down he takes a few minutes to breathe.

He turns his back on you and heads over to his car. "Hey," you scream. "Thirty bucks." He keeps walking and you chase after him. When he slips into his car and starts the ignition you get angry and like Mercedes did to your car all that time ago, you grab the nearest good sized rock and hurl it at the glass. The man gets mad and exits his blue mini-van, that he no doubt totes his wife and kids around in.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing you little fag," he screams. "My wife's gonna flip!"

"Not as much as she would if she knew what you were doing out here with me you prick," you yell back. You're high and that makes you fearless, but you should be afraid. It would be smart to be scared at this point as the hulking brute approaches you. "You owe me thirty bucks asshole."

He grabs you by your shirt and screams into your face, "I'm gonna take this crack in my windshield out of your ass you fairy."

"If I'm a fairy what does that make you, huh? You let a fag, a fairy suck you off. A month ago you were fucking my ass so you're just as much as a fag as me," you yell back.

"I'll show you a fairy," the man says as he shakes you hard and then brings his right fist down to your cheek even harder. Then your stomach feels a sickening pain. You think you can handle it. It wasn't the first time some guy flipped out on you. You've dealt with the effects of gay panic more often than you would have liked. But this man is livid beyond reason and he won't stop striking your ivory flesh. You hurt but you know he isn't going to stop. You try to fight back but he's so much bigger and your mind just isn't in it. You just want your money. You've earned it. You've checked out and you only feel the stings he's leaving around your body.

"Hey," you hear another voice. It sounds kind of familiar. You aren't sure why though. "Break it up. People are working late in he…..what the hell?" The blurry image begins to approach you and your john, who is holding you threateningly but has stopped the blows due to the witness. "What are you doing to him," he asks pissed.

"Fuck this, I need to get home," the john says. He throws you to the ground prompting the newcomer to rush to your battered form. The john drives off.

"It's going to be okay man. I'll get you some help," says the man who you now see has dark blonde hair.

"Nobody can help me," you slur.

"Kurt…..Kurt Hummel," the blonde man questions and tightens his hold on you.

"Depends who's asking," you say.

"Sam. I'm Sam Evans remember me? God, man it's been like eight years."

"Well, hey there lemon juice," you say half gone.

"Man what…"

You cut him off, "Don't ask 'couse I ain't tellin." Then it all goes black.

**Thank you for giving my little story a shot. Next up will have a lot of Sam and Kurt interaction. **

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	2. No Rest For the Wicked

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His skull was screaming at him as he faded back into consciousness. He was feeling the pain now and it was all so incredibly sobering. He tried to put the pieces of recent events back together in his muddled mind. He briefly wondered if he had been picked up by another john, which would explain why he was leaning up against a car door and window as he groaned lightly to himself.

"Shit," he hissed out quietly to himself before slowly chancing a look at the driver of the unknown vehicle he was riding in. When he saw the man who was intensity staring at the road and gripping the wheel in a sort of panic, it all began falling back into place. "Fuck," he said, this time a little louder and dropped his head to the headrest of his seat.

To his credit, Sam didn't take his eyes away from the road. "Yeah uh…..I had to lock up at my office but I'll get you to the hospital soon."

"No hospitals," the falsetto groused. "No insurance and I don't want to deal with cops."

Sam got a stern look on his face, this time taking a couple of seconds to look over at his companion before returning his eyes to the task at hand. "You almost passed out. You could have a concussion or something. You need a hospital."

"I woke up didn't I? I didn't slip into a coma so it's fine," Kurt assured. "Look you can just drop me off a few blocks over. There's an all-night place on Woodward Ave."

"No. If you won't let me take you in at least hang with me for a while," The blonde man said in all seriousness. When Kurt failed to answer him he said, "I just want to make sure you're gonna be okay."

"I've been through worse," Kurt said through his teeth. "I can take a few blows from that asshole."

"So this is routine," Sam questioned lifted a brow as he made a right.

"Yeah, whatever just….don't worry about it," the other man muttered.

"Then you can go through the same shit from a different place," was replied with finality.

Kurt grunted at the command. He only did as he was told when he was being paid to. He had become defiant in his years away from high school. "My time costs money Sammy boy," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. "This boy's got bills to pay."

Sam glared through his windshield, no doubt because he couldn't take his eyes off the road to glare directly at Kurt. "And a habit to fund too, it seems." He had said it in a clipped tone, like it was somewhere between pissed, disappointed, and gentle all at once. It confused Kurt to no end. "Yeah I saw the track marks on your arms when I put you in your seat. Man, are you even trying to hide it?"

"Great another person to judge the man-whore and his self-medicated behaviors," Kurt sardonically said, rolling his eyes. "I've heard it all before Mr. Evans. It's disgusting, blah, blah, blah. I get it, I just don't care."

"Well maybe you should start caring," Sam was getting visibly angrier. His eyes were narrowed as he stopped at the stoplight and glanced over once more at Kurt. He had suspected what was going on in that parking lot before the abuse began but Kurt had just confirmed it.

"Bet everyone thought that Puckerman would turn out more like this rather than me, except maybe banging lonely housewives instead. He'd be getting paid for something he does anyway," Kurt joked maniacally. "For all I know he's doing just that."

"He actually expanded his pool cleaning business and makes some really good money with it. He took some community college classes and transferred to UCLA, got a degree in business, then got his masters," the blonde man informed as he put his foot on the gas. "After he learned all the logistics he got himself a business plan and some investors. Between California, Florida, and Texas he has services in twelve cities. He's about to start something up in Arizona and then he wants to look into some places in Oklahoma and Georgia."

"Fuck me," Kurt groaned. "Even Noah 'I love to Fuck' Puckerman became a respectable member of society." It wasn't that Kurt wasn't proud of his onetime friend, but really? He was a successful business person and Kurt was earning his living screwing closeted married men, and college aged kids trying to 'figure things out'. "Who knew I'd end up being the sleazy one, eh?"

"Yeah well he's still fond of the housewives if that makes you feel any better," Sam added in monotone.

"It's…..whatever," Kurt spat in his annoyance as the car pulled up into the car port of Sam's condo.

"We're here," the other man said before letting himself out of the car.

Kurt seemed to finally realize that Sam had gotten him home and slipped out of the car himself. Slamming the door of the black 2019 Lincoln he screeched out, "You can't just kidnap me! That's illegal if you didn't know."

"Says the guy that just got roughed up by an asshole that paid him for sex and had track marks all over his arm," He whisper-yelled back in hopes to keep the neighbors out of his business, "Keep your voice down."

"Touché," Kurt allowed. "But like I said, my time is money and I need to keep my lights on this month," he finally hissed out.

"Fine," Sam said overly annoyed as he shoved his hand in his right pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Three hundred if you stay the weekend."

"Ha," Kurt jested nastily. "I knew you were into guys. Were you just trying to throw me off your scent with Quinn and Mercedes?"

"Quinn was using me to throw everybody off _her_ scent," Sam said be for adding a harsh, "And don't talk about Mercedes. You have no idea what we had together."

"Touchy, touchy," Kurt mocked. "No, but really…..Won't Mrs. Trouty Mouth have something to say about all of this?"

"There isn't one and besides, it doesn't matter what I'm into at this point because there won't be any funny business tonight." Sam pulled out a one hundred dollar bill and shoved it into Kurt's petulant hand. "You can get the rest when I take you home on Sunday night. Now let's get inside." Sam grabbed his former classmate's hand and led him to the entrance.

To his credit Kurt followed silently, still clutching the money in his right hand. When Sam opened the door and turned the light on Kurt couldn't help but look in awe at the home. It was modest enough but it was still so nice. It wasn't the bachelor pad Kurt had been expecting. It was actually kind of elegant.

"It doesn't reek of single, former high school jock," Kurt loudly observed. "Kudos to you."

Sam displayed a small soft smile and said, "A friend of mine helped."

"Thank goodness for _friends_," the former glee falsetto spat annoyed.

Sam snickered lightly, "Yeah well, there's a guest room upstairs. It's down the hall from mine and it has its own bathroom. The towels on the rack are clean. You can borrow something of mine to wear."

"Great," was the sarcastic reply.

"There isn't a lot in the fridge but I can order us something. What are you up for?" Sam didn't bother addressing Kurt's attitude. He figured he'd encounter that for the majority of the weekend.

"Whatever you want to get is fine," Kurt answered. "You know…this isn't 'Pretty Woman' right? I mean I'm not Julia Roberts," Kurt asked seriously.

"What, you don't think I'm pretty," Sam tried to jest.

"If we were going by way of the movie I'd be the pretty one. You'd be Richard Gere."

"I guess since this isn't the movie there's no need to worry about which of us is the pretty one. It's not like either of us are chicks," the blonde man laughed.

"Yeah…um anyway I uh…I need the bathroom," Kurt said, suddenly nervous.

Sam scratched the back of his neck and nodded his head. "Sure. I'll take you up to your room and then give you some time to clean up. I'll bring you some stuff to put on and order us some grub."

"Yeah, sure," Kurt easily agrees, almost too easily.

Sam led him up the stairs and led him to the room he'd be occupying for the next couple of day. "There is already tooth paste and tooth brushes in there. There's soap and stuff."

Kurt looked at him a bit confused. "Bring home strays often, do you?"

Sam chuckled, "Nah, my kid sister and brother come up and visit. Sometimes the rents come with, so I keep both the extra rooms ready. Sometimes my dad runs away and comes out on his own. Kurt shrugs at the explanation. "So I guess I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything."

"Yeah, thanks."

Sam turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Kurt watched the door for about half a minute before allowing himself to collapse on the bed and sighing. He was on his stomach, which allowed him to reach his back pocket. He was relieved when he felt the plastic baggy still in place. He pulled it out and brought it to his face. "Hello there friend," he said quietly, "I'm so glad to see you. There is no way I was going to make it through the weekend without you." He kissed the transparent material all the while looking at its white contents with that familiar ache.

* * *

They had an awkward meal of Buffalo wings, eggrolls, garlic bread, and tacos because Sam was weird and apparently felt like representing multiple regions of the earth in one meal. Kurt ate it with no complaint though. He was hungry and he liked everything that had been delivered so he didn't even make a sarcastic remark about it.

Sometime around 1:30am, they bid each other goodnight, leaving Kurt to his own devises in his temporary bedroom.

It was just after four in the morning when Sam was awakened by thudding, which sounded as if it came from the stairs. It took a moment to ward off his sleepy haze but he managed to do so fairly quickly. He sprung up from his bed and shuffled to his bedroom door in his Superman boxers. He peeked beyond the door, only to hear a combination of groaning and laughter. Due to the glint of the hall way light, he was able to see his former schoolmate lying flat on his back once he reached the top of the stairs

"Kurt, man, are you okay," Sam asked as he swiftly got himself down the steps.

"Well of course I am, Sammy my boy," the man on the floor laughed. "Just a little slill….no jus an frall…a spill fall," he rambled.

Sam was in no way amused by the mockery Kurt was making of his concern when he knelt down to inspect the man for injuries, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to differentiate between the ones received from the earlier beating and any more recent ones from the fall.

"Awe," the pale boy barked out in laughter. "Don't look at me like that. Life is crappy but it can be so, so good. I feel so good right now." Sam took into account that his onetime friend's Glasz colored eyes were glassy. His pupils were most definitely dilated. "When I get up we should dance," he spoke rapidly. "Dance and, oh we can sing too…..Remember when we did our duets. We were going to sing together but Finn said to leave you alone so you wouldn't get messed with for singing with the resident gay kid…..I was the only one out for so long then senior year came along and Finn outed Santana. That was messed up but it's not like everyone didn't know that she and Brittany were having nasty lady sex anyway….."

"What did you take, Kurt," Sam asked, briefly cutting the chatty man off.

"I was talking oh handsome one with the body of a Greek god," he continued to prattle on. "Anyway, everyone else fell out of the closet like as soon as I left. Can you believe that? Of course they did. Even Quinn ended up being like 'I love you Rach.' And Rachel was like, 'I love you too so let's just be a happy lesbian couple and forget all about my best gay after a few years. She went and ….."

Again Sam cut off the rant by repeating, "What the hell did you take, Kurt? What did you bring into my house?"

"The white pony, baby," Kurt laughed, finally sitting up. "God it's so clean in this place. You must have a maid."

"Focus!" the blonde man was trying his hardest to be patient. He grabbed hold of Kurt's shoulders and looked into his fuzzy eyes. "When you say the white pony, do you mean coke?"

"Never drink the stuff," Kurt answered with a giggle.

"Not Coca-Cola, I mean Cocaine," Sam snapped.

"Well, yeah it's not like I had any smack lying around," he said in a 'duh' tone. Then he pointed to the picture's gracing the other man's living room wall. "That picture on the wall is totally creeping me out man. That lady keeps staring at me with those judging eyes. I think she's a witch."

"That's my grandma," Sam grumbled.

"Is your grandma a witch Sam, Sam, Sam I am, has a great chest I am?"

"NO," Sam replied dryly.

"Do you still not like green eggs and ham? Oh do the James Earl Jones voice. You use to do that all the time. You kind of sucked at it but it was cute…It was even cuter when you spoke that blue people language."

"Na'vi," Sam clarified. He may have been annoyed but that was one thing he would always correct.

"Well excuse me mister super hero man," Kurt continued with light laughter. "Allow me to make it up to you." Kurt husked through his jovial tone.

"How about you go back to bed and let this ware off?"

"I'm all for going back to bed," the falsetto smirked.

"Alright," said the blonde man. Sam stood up and extended his hand to the man sitting on the floor.

Kurt took the offered hand and shot up off of the ground. He was feeling so good right now. He felt like he could be bold and free. He usually did when he was high. Sam decided he wanted to make sure Kurt got into bed and he wanted to make a little search of the room, just in case there was still coke lying around.

Kurt continued to chatter and giggle as he followed Sam up the steps to the guest room. He lied in the bed smiling as Sam put the blanket over him. "You're so nice Saaaaaaaaaam," he said giddily. "Such a gentlemen, Samady Sam."

"How about you get some sleep?"

"Boooooo," Kurt whaled. "No sleep, we should play baseball,"

"I don't think that's a very good idea right now," Sam said, trying to stay calm.

"I don't even like baseball but if I tried it I might. Or maybe not. Oh, oh we should go see some of the penguins," the jaded man said as he sprung from the bed.

They interacted like this for about six hours before Kurt finally crashed. Sam ended up falling asleep in the recliner chair in the same room. He didn't trust Kurt on his own at this point.

It was about three in the afternoon when Sam's eyes opened to find a still sleeping Kurt. He contemplated fixing a meal for his guest but he wasn't too enthusiastic with the idea of leaving him to his own devices. He didn't want the other man to wake up and use while he was absent.

Finally he settled for ordering in again and ordered a couple of pizzas. He ordered a supreme for himself and due to the file in the back of his head from various double dates; he remembered that Kurt seemed to like chicken and artichokes on his. When the doorbell rang he scurried down the stairs and accepted the food, leaving a hefty tip.

He jogged back up the stairs and into the room with the intention of waking the sleeping man, only to be met with Kurt already awake sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It's alive," the blonde said sarcastically, showing he was none too amused by the earlier events of the day.

"Yeah _it_ is," Kurt said back in the same tone, eyeing the man's bare chest.

"We can't go through that again. Not while you're here," Sam scolded.

"Look, sorry about that alright. I needed it to take the edge off. It's not like I knew I was going to end up here," Kurt shot back.

"You brought drugs into my house, Kurt."

"I know that. I said I was sorry."

The blonde man set his jaw and said, "Why don't I believe you?" He was looming over his guest. He wasn't trying to be aggressive but he wanted the other man to realize that he was serious about this. What Kurt had pulled was not okay.

"Because you brought a male prostitute into your house. One you knew was into stuff because you made sure to let me know that you knew about the track marks," Kurt hissed. "You were dumb enough to let me in your place without checking to see what I had on me. So no, I'm not really all that sorry."

Sam looked at the man incredulously. He was absolutely stunned. "I thought you would have more respect for me than that."

"Oh grow up. I'm not that same kid you knew back in Lima," he yelled. Though at seeing Sam step back at his biting words he added, "I'll make it up to you if you want. I'll make it better."

"What's done is done, Kurt."

"I know but," Kurt dropped his voice a register. "I can make the present feel better than the past."

"What are you talking about?"

"This." Kurt began fiddling with Sam's boxers.

Sam jumped backwards. "No. I don't want that."

"You paid for it Sam. I owe it to you," the falsetto answered. It wasn't like it'd be a chore in this case. This was Sam and goodness, the man still had those same chiseled abs he had in high school. Then there were those pecks...

"No Kurt."

"Come on, I can see Sammy Jr. is all awake and ready. I'll just go down on you. You can close your eyes and pretend I'm anybody else," was returned. "I won't tell anyone you let another guy suck you off."

Sam gulped. For half a second he considered it. Seeing Kurt so willing to give himself over was hard to reject but that wasn't what this was about. He'd never have the man under these circumstances, no matter how hard he was.

"I'm not worried about people knowing that. It took a while but I'm comfortable in my bi-sexuality."

Kurt mentally patted himself on the back for getting Sam to admit it. He had always had a feeling that Sam wasn't exactly straight. Plus the man totally had the lips that could….wait a minute. If Sam liked guys too, and he was cool with it then why didn't he want Kurt? What was so repulsive about him? Oh yeah, that. "So you want to pay for me but you're too good to actually go through with screwing a prostitute? I gotcha," he gritted out.

"It's not like that. You were hurt and then I saw the marks and I just couldn't leave you out there like that," Sam defended, all of a sudden feeling guilt that he probably shouldn't have.

"Well, congratulations, Blondie. You are now officially a super hero. Where's your cape, Captain Save a Ho?"

"Kurt…"

"I need the money so I'll keep our deal," he interrupted.

Sam took a deep breath. Kurt was right. This was definitely not the boy he knew from high school. This guy was damaged and bitter. This guy had lost his sense of self-worth and Sam just had to get it back. Maybe he could save him.

"There's pizza downstairs."

* * *

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	3. Could Have Picked Up the Phone

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On Sunday evening Sam dropped Kurt off at the little diner that Kurt had mentioned that Friday. He did so with a heavy heart, knowing that the world he was sending Kurt back into was only going to further destroy the man. He didn't understand how this had happened, and Kurt wasn't telling. Sure the kid had had it rough with bullying in high school. All the gleeks did to one extent or another. Kurt and Rachel had probably gotten it the worst but how could that carry on into him becoming the shell of a guy he once was? Hell Rachel had managed to get out and work on her dreams so how was it at all fair that Kurt didn't?

So he decided to start this….whatever he was starting, by making a few phone calls. Mercedes, Rachel and Finn had been the closest to Kurt after graduation. Those were the people that he hoped to give him some answers.

First up was Mercedes. He knew her number by heart, but opted to tap her on the contact list instead. They didn't work out as a couple but they were still pretty good friends. She had been the first person he told after he had his first hookup with another guy and they both shared a laugh at the fact that she had been into two guys in high school that liked guys too. She joked about having suspicions about Puck's and Shane's sexualities.

"Sam," she said excitedly into the phone. "I was just thinking about you."

"Is that so? At least I like being on your mind," he jested.

"What's up buttercup," she asked warmly.

"Buttercup? really Jones? I think you've been brainwashed by that baby," Sam snickered.

"My son has not brainwashed me. He's just opened me up to new things."

"How is the little monster anyway," he asked with pride.

"Brandon is amazing," the dark woman bragged. "But can you expect anything less seeing as how I was the one that created him?"

"You half created him," the man corrected. "And I hope he doesn't inherit your modesty."

"Please, I carried him and pushed him out. I get at least seventy percent of that claim," she snarked back.

"I'm telling Henry you said that," Sam jibed.

"Tell him. What's he gonna do? He knows not to mess with Mama Bear," she replied in a nonchalant manner.

"Maybe if he'd put a ring on it, he'd have more of a say," Sam said slyly.

"Maybe after I get my album out. I told him not to get any ideas for the next year at least. Between his producing, my recording and a precocious toddler running all around the place, I just can't handle a wedding right now."

"I didn't say get married right now. You can be engaged for a while. It might get mama and papa Jones off your back."

Mercedes chuckled. "They'd just try to rush a wedding more if they get to see a ring."

"Maybe."

"Definitely. So does this call have a purpose other than to hear my sexy voice?"

"You got me," Sam laughed. "As much as I love to hear your sexy voice, I also had a question for you."

"You never call me this early on a week day since you're in the office so I figured."

"You know me too well."

"Enough with the flattery boy, what can I do for you."

"I was wondering when the last time you talked to Kurt Hummel," he asked tentatively.

"Um, I guess it was a couple of weeks before I found out I was pregnant. He seemed really stressed out and then he had to cut our conversation short because he said he had to get to an appointment. Next time I called, his number had changed. I couldn't even get in touch with him when I had Brandon He must have gotten rid of his old email account and I don't think he even has a Facebook account anymore." She seemed remorseful but a little bit of Sam was still irritated that she never brought that up in conversation. "He was in Detroit last I knew. I can't believe I never thought to put it together that you two were in the same place."

"I thought I saw him at a diner I was eating at but I swear I blinked and he was gone," he fibbed.

"Oh. I hope you see him again. I'd love to talk to him. Maybe tell him about his nephew," she said sweetly.

"Me too," Sam said honestly. "I had better get back to work."

"And I had better tend to your Godson. It sounds like he's up from his nap."

"Alright Cedes, bye."

"Bye, White Chocolate," she laughed before hanging up the phone.

Next up was Rachel. He didn't much talk to the rising Broadway star, but he still spoke with Quinn from time to time so it was her contact information he found himself scrolling for in his cell phone. When he hit the dial tone he patiently waited to the sound of some Buddy Holly song until he heard a rasped, "Hey Sam. long time no talk."

"Yeah it's been a while. How have you been," he replied in attempted to make conversation.

"I'm doing really well. We've been so busy lately between both of our schedules. Thankfully my show is going on hiatus soon and Rach will be in between productions. I need some time with the wife," she giggled into the phone.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Nah," she assured. "We're spending a rare day off lounging around the house. When we get our break we're off to Barcelona for a few weeks of R & R."

"Oh, well that sounds like fun."

"Yeah, we can't wait."

"I was actually hoping to talk to Rachel. I always end up talking to her through you so I've never really gotten her contact information," the blonde man confessed.

"So you didn't call just to hear my flawless voice and charming wit," she feigned upset. Quinn had grown up in a lot of ways since the popularity obsessed seventeen-year-old ice queen that Sam had met back at McKinley. She learned that it was okay to joke around, and see life as something to enjoy for yourself and not for others. Sam figured that once she'd become honest with herself about her sexuality, she was able to let go of all the things that kept her so tied down in the past. She was never able to recover a relationship with her father, but her mother and sister accepted her. That, along with having the girl she loved and a career that was going seemingly well had done her so much good.

"Not this time woman. It's all about the little misses," he chuckled.

"You trying to still my lady, Evans," she continued to jest.

"Nope, but if she happens to choose the hotter blonde, I can't help that," he laughed.

"She already has Captain America," Quinn giggled. "Hold on let me get her." After a few seconds Sam heard a muffled "Hey babe. Sam Evans is on the phone for you."

A few more seconds and the man was met with an overly chirpy, "Hi Samuel. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Hey Rachel. How are you?"

"I'm fantastic. Life is busy but you know how I thrive on a full schedule." Rachel had learned to calm down throughout the years but she was still into achieving goal after goal and to do that she liked to keep a precise schedule. She was up for a Tony soon and Sam imagined that it only made her work that much harder. No wonder Quinn was looking forward to the break so much.

"Sounds, uh….pretty great. I was wondering if you've talked to Kurt Hummel recently," he blurted out the last part, not sure how to Segway into it. Rachel was still a woman of many words and he was afraid if he gave her too much leeway he'd either lose patience or just never get what he wanted out of her at all.

"Kurt, wow I haven't talked to him in over a year," she replied as she searched her mind for her last conversation with the falsetto.

"I thought you two were best friend," Sam questioned with a little bite.

"We were. I still consider him one of the best friends I ever had. We just lost touch. Why have you talked to him?"

"I ran into him briefly a while ago. He said to give him a call but I accidentally lost the number. I was hoping you had it," Sam lied.

"The number I have is disconnected now. I called him a while back to get his address so I could send him a wedding invitation but he never answered. I left a couple of messages but he never called back. I tried to call him on his last birthday but the number wasn't in service anymore. I tried emailing him when I found out about the Tony nomination but that just bounced back."

"So between the wedding and your nomination, you didn't try to get in contact with him at all," he hissed, but tried to cover up the disdain in the fact that minus his birthday, she'd only seemed to try to get in touch with him when it came to important things going on in her life. Kurt may have not have reached out to her, but she should have tried harder. Even high school Rachel Berry was like a dog with a bone when it came to something she cared about. Why hadn't she kept up that mentality with Kurt?

"Things just got so busy in my life and it seemed like Kurt didn't really want to ever talk to me so I gave him space," Rachel said a little guiltily.

"You mean you gave up," he lightly snapped.

"I…I…um, well I…"

The phone got a little muffled before Quinn was back on the line. "Sam, what's going on?. Why is Rach getting upset?"

"I was asking her about Kurt Hummel," he answered a little deflated. He hadn't meant to make his annoyance known but it was getting harder and harder for him not to blame the gleeks, himself included, for dropping the ball on someone they had all called a friend. Rachel was supposed to be Kurt's best friend. And it was hard for Sam not to have extra resentment toward her for not being there for him the way she should have.

"Okay, that doesn't explain why she's getting all upset." There was that HBIC tone he didn't much miss. He supposed he couldn't blame her. She didn't know why he was mad and she was protecting her wife in the same way he would Kur…..er his own spouse given the chance.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm not having the best day and I guess it came out on the wrong person. I better go before I say anything else that's stupid," he replied. "Can you apologize to her for me and I'll give her a personal one a bit later?"

"Yeah sure. Bye Sam."

"Bye."

Now the man's sights were set on Finn. If anyone would know about what was going on with Kurt, it should be Finn above all.

"Hello," Finn's voice boomed through the phone.

"Hey Finn, it's Sam."

"Hey, What's up man?"

"Oh you know, just working and breathing," Sam hummed out a mild attempt at laughter.

"Yeah, me too. Being a grease monkey keeps me busy," the tall man chuckled on the other line. "So it's been a while."

"Yeah it has," Sam said, already getting tired of the small talk. "Um. I was actually wondering if you've heard from your brother lately?"

"Mom talked to him on Thursday. They talk like once a week."

"How's he doing? I was just catching up with some people and it dawned on me that I had no idea about him," Sam once again fibbed to another person on his fishing expedition.

"Oh, he's doing pretty good. At least that's what mom tells me."

"You mean you don't talk to him?"

"We always seem to miss each other when he calls," Finn said absent mindedly. "Either that or he and mom start talking and there's no getting between that."

"So he's doing alright," Sam pushed.

"Yeah. Mom says he has a place. Actually now that you mention it, he's in Detroit too. You should totally look him up."

"Yeah, I tried. Can't seem to find a number for him. Not even Mercedes or Rachel and Quinn know how to get in touch with him."

"Oh," Finn's voice wavered at hearing the names of his two exes. "I can probably get it from my mom tonight."

"Why don't you have it?"

"I don't know. He changed his last one and I just never really got the new one."

"Dude, you're his brother. You're supposed to know this stuff," Sam said, his annoyance coming back with a vengeance. "If nobody else from high school, you of all people should know what's up with him."

"I do know," Finn defended. "Mom says he's got a nice job at some store selling clothes and stuff. She says he's got a nice place too, but he's busy all the time. Like he doesn't have time for visitors and stuff."

"Right," the blonde man said sardonically.

The bite in Sam's single word answer went right over the tall man's head as he went on to say, "He must be doing really good because he won't take anything from Burt's estate. He told mom to keep it all. She won't though. She put it all in an account for when he might need it. She keeps saying something about when he wants to start a family, he might need the extra money to make that happen." Sam couldn't help but smile at that. The fact that Kurt's stepmother made sure to stay in touch, and made sure that Kurt could be financially taken care of if needed; it only gave him some hope. "He gets a percentage of the shops profits put in there too. Mom wouldn't have it any other way," Finn continued when Sam failed to speak.

"Has he been home, for the holidays at all?"

"He stopped coming a while ago. Said he had a lot of work around holidays so he can't really make it up. Mom misses him a lot though. She keeps him on the phone for hours and sends him care packages and gifts."

"Do you think I can get the address," Sam questioned.

"Well, yeah but he doesn't live there. It's a P.O. Box or something. He told mom that he sometimes doesn't get home so it's easier to get his mail near his job."

"Mom says, mom, says, mom says," Sam mocked unable to hold it in. It had all just built up from phone call to phone call and now, well….."What the hell man. This is your fucking brother! You were supposed to be the one person to give a damn! When's the last time you've even talked to him? I don't mean through your mom but like heard his voice and talked back and forth."

"Dude, calm down."

"His dad died, that didn't stop you from being family," Sam had completely lost his cool at this point.

"Kurt knows I'll always be his bro," Finn said angrily.

"Really because he's needed you and you've been fucking AWOL, man. Where the fuck were you when his life was going to shit?"

"What are you even talking about? You sound like you've been in touch with him," Finn spat.

"Bingo, dumbass! He isn't doing so good, but I guess when you don't have a fucking support system, people don't notice." Part of Sam knew he was projecting. He hadn't been there for someone who had been there for him when his own family was struggling and now thinking about the boy's stepbrother falling into the same patterns as all of the boy's supposed friends, well it just riled him up. He couldn't really blame Carol. He supposed she was doing the best she could with what information Kurt had allowed her to have. At least she was making a genuine effort to take care of her stepson whether he wanted it or not.

"Why the hell did you call me lying then," Finn hissed.

"Because I wasn't gonna tell you what was going on with him. He obviously doesn't want you to know, but I needed to know why you had no clue."

"What's going on with my brother," Finn asked, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation.

"Now you give a damn?"

"Screw you. I've always cared. Life just happens."

"Not too much to talk to your fucking family," Sam spat back.

"Tell me what's going on."

"Not now," Sam seethed, trying to calm himself. "When he wants you to know. Just leave it alone for now."

"You can't just tell me that and not give me any answers," Finn said with worry.

"I can and I will. Don't worry; I'll help him out with this." He figured this wouldn't be the end of it. Finn would freak even more and try to figure it all out. He may even run to his mom for support. But for right now, he needed to calm himself, so he disconnected the call.

* * *

Sam's nerves were shot all week. He was worried about Kurt for obvious reasons. He could hardly concentrate at work and just barely made it through each day with efficiency. His plan was to drive around looking for Kurt on Friday night in hopes to convince him to come back to his place for the weekend. He may not have been able to babysit his old friend every day, but they could have the weekends.

His plans had been changed, however, when he spotted the other man in a conversation with a man around the corner from the diner that Sam had dropped him off at on Sunday night. If he was being honest, he had taken that particular route to and from work on purpose since Monday, hoping to catch a glimpse of the falsetto. Now there he was and the blonde man couldn't fight the urge to get his attention.

"Hey," Sam hollered out of the window of his car. Both Kurt and the unnamed man looked over but when Kurt noticed who it was he simply went back to his previous discussion. This only served to annoy Sam so again he hollered, "Dude we need to talk."

Kurt looked back at him with a glare and yelled back, "I'm doing business here. Go the hell away." Now the Asian man in khaki pants and blue button down shirt was starting to look a bit nervous, more so after Kurt spoke of business.

"Hey, I don't know who you are and I don't really care but you might want to leave this one alone. I've got horror stories," he addressed the already uncomfortable man.

"Sam," Kurt snapped.

"You could end up without your wallet or you could have a little extra something at your next physical," the blonde man went on.

"I think I better go," the potential john said, already turning away before making a quick escape.

"Are you crazy," Kurt yelled. "You can't just come around and screw me out of clients. You're fucking with my bread and butter here."

"No, I'm fucking with your drug money," Sam hissed back. "Get in the car."

"Are you sure you're clean because you have got to be high if you think I'm getting in that car with you," Kurt shot back petulantly.

"Get in the car, Kurt."

"You paid for your weekend. It's over. You can't come down here making demands."

"I can call Carol," Sam spat.

"Are you really threatening to tattle to my mommy," the pro said rolling his eyes.

"It depends," Sam replied. "You getting in?"

"You can't do that. You can't tell her," he stresses with mild panic. "She can't know."

"Then it looks like you have a choice to make," Sam challenged further.

Kurt grumbled and stomped over to the car door. He opened it and placed himself in the seat before he agitatedly pulled the seatbelt around him and clicked it in the buckle. The smug, satisfied look on Sam's face wasn't helping. He kind of wanted to scratch it right off him.

"Have you eaten anything," Sam asked.

"Not your concern," Kurt snapped.

"You're a real stubborn ass," the blonde man replied.

"Pot, meet Kettle. What do you want from me?"

"Company," Sam replied. "I want your company for another weekend."

"The weekend doesn't even kick in until tomorrow."

"Then perhaps we can start early."

"Why, so you can babysit me? I'm a grown man, Blondie."

"That's nice to know," Sam chuckled. "I was thinking we could get to know each other again."

"You already know about me."

"I don't know how you got to this place. You had plenty of ambition."

"Things just sort of fell apart," Kurt grumbled.

"Like what?"

"Nothing I plan to talk about right now," was answered. "Don't you have to be at work tomorrow?"

"I can call in for one day. I only ever used one so it should be fine."

Kurt wanted to fight it. Mainly to prove the point that he couldn't be told what to do, but there was still this nagging thing that made him want to comply with the request. "My time is still money," Kurt said cockily.

"And I'm not out of either," was the blonde man's reply. "But no drugs this time."

"I can't promise you that."

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

Sam considered trying to put his foot down. He didn't want that crap in his house, and more importantly he didn't want it in Kurt. However, he knew if he refused, his former schoolmate would run and end up using anyway. "Let me know when you're about to use so I can keep an eye on you."

"I don't steal," Kurt said after a minute of lingering silence. Sam lifted a brow. "I know there are these horror stories about addicts and how they have sticky fingers but I don't. Not anymore. I shop lifted a few times but I stopped all that a few years ago."

"I wasn't thinking about that," Sam admitted, inwardly cringing because it honesty was something he should have taken into account. Just because the Kurt he knew was above stealing didn't mean he still was. The Kurt he knew was above prostitution and look how that turned out. "I just don't want you to have an episode and lose your shit in my house. I don't want to wake up and find you at the bottom of the stairs again."

"Fair enough," Kurt said flippantly. "One more condition."

"What's that?"

"When did you finally admit to yourself that you played for both teams?"

"About the time Quinn called me freaking out because she'd Kissed Rachel," the man chuckled. "I didn't think it was all that big of a deal. I was surprised it was Rachel of all people but I thought that's what girls did in college. Sew there wild oats and what not."

"Too much talk about the ice princess and the Diva. I'm asking about you," Kurt sassed.

"Oh, yeah. So she was losing it and I was trying to calm her down and I ended up saying something to the tune of, 'It's not crazy to be attracted to other chicks. I mean I'm attracted to other dudes.' We both got really quiet for a while and then ended up laughing hysterically. Then it was my turn to freak out. "

"God you two are like the all American siblings. If you hadn't dated I would have sworn it. Though, I wouldn't put it past her dad. That guy was quite the womanizer from what I've heard," Kurt joked.

"One, I'm pretty sure my father is the man that I call dad and two, gross. Anyway it took a couple of years to actually act on it and before you ask, no it wasn't some drunken one night stand that did the trick. I was very sober at the time and like the four after that. I did have a drunken one night stand but I had come to terms with who I was by then."

"How'd your parents take the news," Kurt asked, genuinely concerned.

"They were pretty cool with it. At least to my face anyway. I think they hope I still like girls enough to have a wife and kids someday but they deal. I'm pretty sure they were holding out on Mercedes for a while but once she got pregnant, they gave up on that."

"Mercedes has a kid," Kurt questioned. He was hurt that he didn't know. He knew it wasn't her fault that he cut her off, but part of him had hoped that if his friends cared enough, they would go the extra mile to get in touch with him.

"Little boy. My godson actually. His name is Brandon and he's got his mama's looks."

"Wow, Mercedes is a mom."

"And if she quits being so damn stubborn she'll be a wife too," Sam jested.

"Is she still with that guy she was with when she first got to LA?"

"Nah, that didn't work out but I like this one better. Henry's a producer and he treats the woman like a queen."

"I've missed out on a lot," Kurt said, sounding a little down trodden.

"It's not too late to catch up," Sam answered gently. "We're here."

Kurt looked around and sighed before getting out of the car. "It'll be four hundred this time." Sam eyed him oddly. "For the extra day."

"Fine." The blonde man closed the car door as did his companion for hire and they approached the door to the condo.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Please send me a little review if you can.**


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